Full Circle
by rchlsw
Summary: What happens when the son of Queen Anora and King Alistair declares his intention to marry the daughter of a certain Grey Warden?
1. Chapter 1

It had been long since King Alistair of Ferelden had felt properly gobsmacked. One saw a large number of absurd situations, ridiculous requests and other such frittery as a king, but there was nothing that compared to the feeling his younger son invoked when he informed his father of his intention to marry.

Prince Cailan smiled at his father, "Do you have nothing to say? No congratulations to offer?" His grin faltered, "No disowning to go about? No tantrums to throw about the inappropriateness of my choice in wife?"

Inappropriate did not even begin to describe it. Alistair's thoughts went to his wife. Anora was not going to like this, not one bit. "Cailan…I do not know what it is I should say." He ran his hands through his now somewhat thinning hair. "Have you given this the proper amount of thought?" You do understand that this will likely never be accepted by the nobles, much less by your mother…"

"My mother? Why should Mother be upset? She has never wanted more than our happiness."

_Because you want to marry a commoner. Because you want to marry an elf. Because you want to marry **her** daughter._

Alistair dared not say those things aloud and instead sighed, "Forget I said anything, Cailan. Please, give me a moment to…process this."

"If this is about her race or her background, do not worry, Father. Her mother is the Hero of Ferelden, leader of the Grey Wardens. Perhaps they would not accept elves in general, or commoners, but they would accept her."

Alistair knew his son spoke with the naivety of a young person in love. It would not be so simple. But it was not impossible. Cailan was the second son and would probably never see the throne. The gentry may be unwilling to accept an Elven queen but seeing as Duncan was settled and in good health, they may be willing to accept an Elven princess, provided that she was the daughter of an elf such as the Warden.

"I know who her mother is." Alistair sighed once again.

"Well, of course you do! You only travelled with her for over a year and helped to stop the Blight." His pride was unmistakable. He took great honor in being the son of a Grey Warden. Cailan had more than a few things in common with his namesake, including pale blonde hair and the Theirin nose. He shared his late uncle's love of stories, especially those that featured the Wardens.

Alistair bit back a bitter laugh. Perhaps they should have named him Alistair Junior instead, since he seemed to have inherited his father's weakness for elves.

_Well, elf_… he amended.

It had been well over a decade since he'd seen her last. She had been his once, long ago. She was his first love, his first kiss, his first…more than kiss and after his marriage to Anora, his first…

"I know that you would like her." His son interrupted his reverie.

"It's not that, Cailan. I'm sure she's a lovely girl and that I would like her very much." He pinched the bridge of his nose. How does one explain to one's son that he cannot marry the woman he loves because his father had conducted a fairly obvious affair with the girl's mother many years ago? And that because of that, the boy's mother would never allow him to marry that woman's daughter.

Alistair himself was uncertain that he could support his son in this. Daughter of a Hero or no, the nobles were not going to take this without a fight. Were she the daughter of any other elf he may have been more willing to take it on but he did not know if he could bear seeing the girl's mother again.

His heart had never fully recovered from her.

He loved Anora in his own way, as a man that shared her life for the past 26 seasons, but he had never felt such a violent, consuming love for anyone other than her. His Neria.

_Neria_…he had scarcely allowed himself to think that name and now their children wanted to bind them to each other in a way that had been impossible all those years ago. She would be family. How ironic, he'd always wanted a family with her and now he very well may get it, if his son's determination was any indicator.

"Father, you know that you do not have many seasons left. All too soon you will hear the Calling and venture to the Deep Roads. Would you not leave me settled and happy? Would you deny me the opportunity to provide you with grandchildren before you go?"

Alistair said nothing, still wrapped up in thoughts of lessons learned the hard way and of love lost.

"Do not deny me this happiness, please, Father." He pleaded with the older man, "I love her very much and would not have anyone else as a wife."

Alistair almost smiled at this. What a difference a couple of decades and a lasting peace made. He had felt so much the same a long time ago, but he had known that if he took the crown it could never be. When Neria suggested that he take Anora as a wife and then further suggested that they not need to end their relationship after the wedding he had thought that she'd found a way to beat the system. It was foolish of both of them to think that it would work out.

Love made men stupid, however and he'd loved her more than anything; loved her enough to take Morrigan's offer, to help her create an Old God who could one day become an Archdemon. Now, upon reflection, that was the beginning of the end for them, though it had taken many years after to run its course. Their love had been too selfish, too desperate.

When she left him in Weisshaupt had been the worst time of his life. Worse than sleeping in the stables, worse than being sent off to the Chantry, worse than the day he'd met Goldanna in Denerim and had lost the last vestiges of his boyhood; lost the innocence and hope of a young man who did not know nearly enough of the cruelty and unjustness in this world.

He knew that she deserved more than he could give her but he could not bring himself to give her up. It had been selfish, he knew. Eventually his wife tired of being made a fool and sent Bann Teagan to him. Rather than confront his King, Teagan had spoken briefly with Neria, who left very soon after. Alistair had not seen her since. All Grey Warden business that required the involvement of the King was handled by proxy and all Royal invitations were politely declined or attended by her number two, in her stead.

Alistair allowed himself a few more beats to ponder and reluctantly came to the conclusion that he could not force his son to make the same mistakes he had. "Cailan, I give you leave to do with your heart as you wish. Please, though, do not speak of any engagement yet. Allow me to speak with your mother and with the Banns and Teryns that would accept your love. It's a very delicate situation and we would all be remiss to not gather support before any formal announcement is made."

His son could not contain his joy. "Do you really think they will accept her?" His previous assurance and bluster was now gone.

"I do not know, son. We will try."

Cailan hugged his father, "Thank you. For trying."

Alistair then slumped further into his chair and tried to ignore the sudden throbbing in his head. "May as well get it over with now." He muttered aloud, unashamed that he was currently terrified of his wife and her certain negative reaction to her youngest son's intentions.

**

"I will not allow it." Neria Surana was unmoved by her daughter's tears. "Mickah, it is impossible. He is a Prince. You are both common and an elf. Do you not understand? The King and Queen will never consent. It cannot be."

"No, Mother, it is you who does not understand. Things are different now, it is not as it was when you were my age. The Elves have a Bannage now, they are no longer confined to the Alienage. Perhaps we are not considered equal by the humans yet, but one day we shall. And soon! Cailan expects little opposition from the King and Queen. You are the Hero of Ferelden, Mother. That's just as good as being noble, if not better! 'Tis better in mine and Cailan's eyes, to be certain."

"Mickah, I did not fight so hard to keep you so that you could one day have your heart broken by a Prince while I stand by and allow it.

"My heart is well and fine and in one piece! He has already asked and I have already accepted."

"Does your Cailan have the blessing of his parents?"

Mickah hesitated. "It's only a matter of time before a blessing is obtained! He speaks to them at this moment!"

Neria fought against the strong urge to burst into tears. When had this happened? When had her only child given her heart to the Prince? Why could she not prevent her daughter from repeating her mistakes? Was she an insufficient mother? "They shall never consent to it, my child. Our kind is not meant for the palace."

Mickah's expression turned stormy. "What would you have me do, Mother? Turn him over to some noble's daughter so that we may both be miserable and separated for the rest of our lives?"

Neria felt her stomach turn. Was it possible that she Mickah knew of her past with the King? She had kept her daughter as far from Denerim as she possibly could, keeping her safe from rumors and innuendo. "I do not say this because I want you to be unhappy. Quite the opposite, my child." She tucked an errant lock of hair behind her Mickah's ear. "I am trying to save you from misery and disappointment."

"Maker's Breath, Mother!" The only thing that shall make me miserable and disappointed is being denied my love! I love him more than anything in this world. I love him as you love father. Could you imagine being denied him?"

Neria almost laughed. She cared for Mickul, certainly, as much as her heart would allow. He was her husband, her child's father, but there was only one man she'd ever loved as fervently as her daughter would imply.

..._Alistair_…It had been ages since she even thought his name, referring to him only as the King, His Majesty, that man…anything but Alistair.

She would not permit her daughter to make the same mistakes. She could not allow her to follow the same path she had. Telling herself that his love was enough, his clear affection all she needed to feel full.

How wrong she had been. Their love had proved unsustainable, especially after the birth of his first son. He'd been so happy, so excited. He'd shown up in her quarters on the night of Duncan's birth, so joyful she thought she would be unable to contain her tear, That she would weep and scream at him that she did not give a damn about his child with Anora, that it killed her that he had his little royal family now and she had no place in it.

When Teagan came to Weisshaupt it had been a blessing from the Maker. She'd been with Alistair for so long that she did not know how to be without him. It took very little nudging from the Bann for her to realize that her time with Alistair was over and that he could not give her the things that she needed. She left and never looked back, too afraid that she would see him and lose her strength.

She met Mickul not long thereafter and married him upon learning that she was carrying his child. He was a good man, strong and steady, completely unintimidated by her reputation, by her magic.

He was unafraid of the Circle and the Templars that tried to take Mickah from them upon her birth. It had taken all his strength and hers plus that of Wynne and First Enchanter Irving and Maker knew who else to keep her.

It was truly a blessing that her daughter had not been cursed with magic and sent to the Circle. She would never want that for her.

Mickul was not going to be pleased to hear about their daughter's intention to marry the son of his wife's former lover. He knew all too well of Neria's past with the King and while he was understanding, that did not mean that it did not bother him.

"...and there is nothing you can do about it! I am a grown woman, the proud daughter of two of the finest Dalish elves to walk this world and the nobles and whoever else can kiss my arse and sod off!"

Neria was not sure how long her daughter prattled on, but by the end of the evening she found herself giving a tentative okay, dependent upon the blessing of Cailan's parents and the blessing of the Gentry.

She was confident that Mickah would find neither.


	2. Chapter 2

"Alistair, do not be ridiculous." Anora gave her husband a patient smile. "Cailan is a young man who fancies himself in love, that is all. Strong words from you will cure him of this absurd idea." She stopped, paused and began again, "He knows better. He will come to his senses as long as you are firm with him."

Alistair swallowed audibly. "I do not think that a firm tone will make a difference. He is quite determined."

"And what did his father tell him?"

"That he had my permission to do as he pleased, provided he had your support and that of the nobles."

Anora narrowed her eyes and snorted. "So, you would make me the bad guy. Once again." Alistair had no capacity to discipline their children properly and it had often fallen to her to act as enforcer.

The King had enough self awareness to look sheepish. "You were not there, my Queen. You would not have been able to muster any disapproval, if faced with Cailan yourself. He is very sincere."

Anora had no doubt that Cailan was sincere. Her younger son took after the Theirin side of the family, which included an almost complete inability to hide one's emotions. While this was at times endearing, she mostly viewed it as a fault and weakness. She had been pleased when Duncan proved himself rather adept at the art of emotional subterfuge.

Duncan and Cailan were a study in opposites. Where Duncan was obedient and disciplined, Cailan did as he pleased and skated by on humor and charm. She and Alistair took a certain amount of filial pride in the notion that Duncan was so much like her and Cailan like his father.

Duncan never caused her a bit of trouble; he grew up into a responsible and judicious man. He married as was expected and already had a son and heir. She had often worried that Cailan would never settle down.

She'd always had a soft spot for the boy, who from the instant the nursemaid placed him in her arms, owned a place in her heart that no one else could touch. She'd announced immediately that he would be named Cailan, in honor of her first husband, the former king. He'd looked so much like her lost love that she'd almost allowed herself to think of him as his. She was glad that he was born second, that he might always keep the mischievous glint in his eye and grow up happy and carefree, without having to shoulder responsibility that a young Duncan had taken to naturally.

She'd often wondered what might have happened if Alistair had grown up in the palace, if he, too would have taken to duty and responsibility as he had when it was forced upon him at the Landsmeet all those seasons ago.

Cailan would not have been changed by it, she was certain. Perhaps it was for the best, then, that they did grow up separated. Calian had never, if she were to be honest, been well-suited for the throne. He cared not for politicking or diplomacy. Thank the Maker that he'd married her. Alistair, who was so doubtful of his abilities, took to the throne easily, despite missing a lifetime's worth of training and preparation. He was a good King, even by her exacting standards.

Now, her son, her Cailan would assert his Theirin side even further. A taste for elves passed down over generations, to never be satisfied until one of the creatures would see the throne. She laughed, then, rather more loudly than she'd intended to.

Alistair winced at this, recognizing that is was not born of amusement.

"I thought we'd disposed of such foolishness long ago." She said softly, mostly to herself.

"We did." He took his wife's hands and whispered, "He is not I and she is not her mother."

Anora was waiting for this, had been quietly anticipating the moment the King would make this about **her.**

"I know this, husband." She released his grasp and distanced herself from him. "But I do wonder if your…feelings from the past now override your judgment."

"The past is done, my wife. My only concern now is for the happiness of our son."

"Are you sure? Are you sure that this is not some fancy of yours? That you have not taken this up to atone for perceived mistakes from long ago?"

The Warden had long ceased to serve as a wedge in their marriage. It felt particularly queer to be discussing her now.

"I…" he hesitated, taking time to choose his words carefully. "I do not wish to atone for any mistake of mine, only to prevent any such thing from happening to Cailan."

Anora went still and Alistair knew she was angry. "Any such thing?" She fisted her hands at her sides. "Do you regret your decision, husband?"

"No." His answer was instant and truthful. He did not regret marrying Anora. Perhaps there was a time that he would have categorized it as that, long before he knew the difference between regret and selfish extravagance.

If not for their marriage Ferelden would have been left to strife and uncertainty. His sons would not exist; he would have never known the simple joys of family.

"Then why allow Cailan to make such a foolish decision?"

"Who is to say it is foolish?"

"I will say it is. This will cause great controversy, my King. This is no trifling matter that can be laughed off or ignored. What Cailan requests cannot be done without a long and taxing fight. 'Tis much easier to forbid it."

"Would you truly be able to do so, Anora? Knowing what you do of Cailan's character, of his heart? We may face a battle with the gentry but I do believe we would have a far bloodier battle with our son, if we were to deny him."

"I will speak with him. Perhaps he will listen to his mother." She knew her children feared her in a way that they did not fear their father.

"Please do." Alistair pressed a kiss to her forehead and grinned. "I know you are weak against him. I look forward to hearing your final decision."

She returned his smile, "Do shut up, Alistair. You know nothing of my weaknesses."

He smirked at his wife as she left the study to seek out Cailan in his quarters.

**

"Oh, Mickah." Mickul said will well practiced indulgence. "What are you thinking?"

"I am in love, Father. Why is everyone so distressed over such a wonderful thing as love?"

She blinked up at him with such sheltered innocence and he felt his heart breaking for her. "Because you fell in love with a man that you can never truly be with. Do you not understand?"

"Andraste's Tits, Father!" She clapped a hand over her mouth, flushing at the curse. "You sound just like Mother. Cailan is not heir to the throne. I do not seek a crown, only love!"

"I know this, daughter. You know this. The Arls and Bannorns and Teryns do not. Unfortunately, this decision must be agreeable to them, as well." Mickul shook his head. The girl was her mother's daughter, with a taste for royal blood. He remembered well his first meeting with Neria, who was clearly heartbroken. She had been listless and pale and wan, though still beautiful. It had not taken long for him to fall in love, though he knew her heart still belonged to another. It was many seasons after that she had revealed that man to be the King. How small and stupid he'd felt. How could he compare with a King? Neria had laughed, cold and bitter, and told him that Mickul was more of a man to her than King Alistair had ever been. She did not mention the Templar and Warden that the King had been before and Mickul had not wanted to know what kind of man he'd been to her then.

They had a good marriage, for that he was thankful. It had taken a long time for Neria's heart to fully switch allegiance to him and he was not so foolish to take it for granted.

"He will convince them. Cailan is quite good with words, you know. He is currently writing a history of the Blight, for the Royal archive. He is clever and funny and kind. He is good, Father, good to me, good to his people." She was unshaken in her belief that her love would make good on his promises and Mickul wondered if he and Neria had been mistaken in protecting her from the coldness of the world.

Mickah did not know what it was to truly grow up Dalish. Her mother was afforded much more respect that other elves, and by extension, Mickah and himself benefitted.

"Ser?" A worker stuck his head through the door, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but there is a note for the young Miss."

Mickah leapt from her seat and rushed toward the door, certain the note held news from Calian.

**

"So, in closing, you must end this…affair immediately. It is insupportable, my son. You ask too much."

Cailan was hard as stone, fully tensed and ready to fight. "You are mistaken, Mother, it is you who asks too much. I am prepared to do what it takes to be with her and if that means rejecting my title as Prince, then so be it."

"Do not act like such a child, Cailan! Do not threaten me as though I am some Bannorn that you may order about and bully." He tone was harsh and angry. "Do you think that you are the first noble man to fall in love with an elf? Do not be so naïve. Keep her, if you must, but you cannot marry her."

His eyes flashed and he strode closer to his mother. "I will not do as many of my peers do. I will not keep her as some shameful secret, to be visited when I can manage it, when it would escape the notice of my wife."

Your father had no such problem! She almost said it, but managed to keep her emotions in check.

"Cailan…" She reached for him. "I am not as heartless as you would think." She cupped a hand under his chin and titled his head up. "You have a duty, son. As a Prince you have a duty to put Ferelden first. Would you endanger our peace and prosperity to indulge yourself?"

"Mickah poses no such threat. She is the daughter of a beloved hero, well known in her own right. She is considered honorable and good by Amaranthine, Weisshaupt, to the furthest reaches of Ferelden."

Anora knew sending Cailan to Amaranthine during the last warm season had been a mistake. She'd been so delighted that he'd finally displayed some ambition that she'd consented to it without thinking of the consequences. "I want only to write our histories, Mother, to preserve our tale amongst the others in the archive." He'd told her. She supposed that he had not intended to fall in love, but the thought gave her little comfort. "I am sorry, Cailan, but perhaps it is time that you learned of sacrifice and duty. Your father was close to the same age when he was educated in these things."

Cailan's eyes became slits and he looked suddenly thoughtful. "I feel as though there is something that I am missing…both of you react too strangely."

"Your father and I are worried, Cailan!" Anora cried, too quickly.

"No. It is not that. I know when you are worried. This is not the case. I did not expect this level of resistance from either of you. From birth you both taught us to ignore the nonsense about the inferiority of elves and dwarves. I know you are better than this, Mother, to hold such a silly thing against her. The mother I have known would want only happiness for me. You know that I am not suited to the throne and you have never pushed me to it, never pushed duty and honor on me, as you did on Duncan. You were always ready to support me in all things, no matter how silly. Why change now, Mother, when it is my dearest wish to have your blessing?

She had no reply. How could she answer? That she would not fight for her son because it was easier on herself? That she did not want to open wounds that were long forgotten? Her son stared at her, his blue eyes boring into hers, entreating that she understand.

How could she say no to him? To her heart, to her favored child?

She would seek compromise. It would be better to agree than to lose him forever.

"We will see, my son. I will invite her to Denerim as my guest. I will make my decision then, after I have the chance to judge her with my own eyes."

"I will take it." Cailan kissed his mother. "I love you. Thank you."

**

Mickah had never sat astride a horse before; it was uncomfortable, leaving her legs aching each night and morning. Horseback was the fastest way to Denerim and speed was of the utmost importance. She was to go to the palace as a guest to the Queen, though she knew the invitation had been sent on account of Cailan. It was the first tentative step to acceptance and Mickah knew this visit would be an important one.

He told her that if they did not meet with his parent's approval that he would run away with her. Run off to Orlais to live in sin and eat cake. She hoped dearly that it would not come to that, for the idea of never seeing her own parents again gave her great sorrow. She shuddered. How had her mother grown up in that awful tower, never knowing a parent's love?

She would arrive in Denerim before the day was through. Her nerves were already betraying her and her hands trembled as they held the horse's reigns.

**

Anora was glad to see that the girl bore little resemblance to her mother. It would have felt too much like she was giving her son to that woman otherwise. Both had dark hair, but where the Warden was angular and sharp featured, the daughter was soft and delicate. She bowed before the Queen with grace and despite herself, Anora was pleased.

"It is an honor to meet you, your Majesty." Mickah kept her eyes averted, determined to pay the Queen every respect and deference.

"Thank you, Miss Anranya," The Queen nodded, "Welcome to Denerim, I understand this is your first time here."

"Indeed. Please accept my compliments, it is a beautiful and busy sort of place. I have never seen a town of its size before."

"Yes, you have been in Amaranthine for most of your life, have you not?"

"Yes, my Queen. My mother rarely took me along in her various travels. I spent much of time in Amaranthine with my father, Mickul." She laughed, "I have had a very sheltered life. I appreciate your invitation, as it has allowed me to broaden my own views of the world."

It was then that the door was thrown open and Cailan stood before them, positively beaming. He said nothing but could not help lifting his hand up in a curious little waggle.

Anora rolled her eyes, too reminded of Alistair and his continued tendency toward childlike excitement.

The two lit up immediately upon seeing each other and she could see that the feelings between them were genuine. The girl seemed to be not so bad, and there was no denying that she made her son happy.

She could not stand in their way. He was determined to have her and she would not risk losing him for it.

She would fight for him, for them, and she would fight fiercely.

**

Mickah felt the introduction to the King and Queen had gone as well as could be expected. Queen Anora was still rather beautiful, even in her increasing age, and King Alistair had been kind, making jokes and laughing with her. She left for her quarters that night with the impression that they found her acceptable.

She browsed through the various carts and shops in the market district, looking for the perfect keepsake to bring back to her parents in Amaranthine. She noticed a stare or two as she made her way around the square, but she was used to it. She was the daughter of the Hero of Ferelden and was well known through all of the land.

"Do you think she is the King's?" Mickah heard the hushed whisper of one old shopkeeper to another, paying it little mind.

"She is elvish, is she not? Were she the King's she'd appear human."

"Then wot's she doin' 'ere?"

"Got 'er claws in the young Prince, I hear."

The other crone chuckled and clucked, "Ah, like her mother, then."

Mickah froze, knowing the ladies spoke of her.

"Indeed. I remember that all to well. Carrying on with the young King as though they 'idn't have a care in the world."

"Carrying on like he 'idn't have a wife at home, more like."

Mickah's heart sped up and her vision blurred. What in Andraste's name were they speaking of?

"Some call 'er Hero of Ferelden, but I've always though of 'er as the King's Whore. The Elvish have no self respect. Happy for whatever scraps the humans will throw them."

"I hear Prince Cailan has a mind to marry the wench, so says Mary, leastways. She works at the castle, y'know."

"Ha! An elf in the palace? Wonder who put that idea in 'er head. Ambitious liker mother, eh? Itching for 'er daughter to get the crown she'd always wanted. Maker knows she'd lain with the King many times, wishing he'd leave the Queen for her."

Mickah thought she would be sick. Quickly she darted away from the old gossips, desperate to unhear their words.


End file.
